‘Hey you,’ I said, kissing him all over his head. He was squeezing so tight I had no breath left for Alexander. I looked up at him and he looked away.
Too much had happened. Neither of us knew where to start with one another. We were too afraid of causing more pain to the other’s bruised heart.
They had brought me a present. I opened it in the taxi. It was a framed drawing of a fighter aircraft with flames and smoke coming out of one wing shooting at some kind of monster.
‘I drew that,’ said Jamie, ‘and Dad framed it.’
‘It’s amazing,’ I said.
Jamie leaned across me.
‘See, that’s a dinosaur who’s escaped from the quarry to find a better life and that plane any minute now is going to crash and the dinosaur will stamp on it.’
‘Will the pilot escape?’ I asked. Jamie shook his head and pulled an expression that denoted it was a shame, but what could you do?
‘Wow,’ I said.
We all went to the Harvester for dinner that night.
In the ladies, Mum said she wouldn’t kick Alexander out of bed and May told her to stop encouraging me.
‘He is rather handsome, though,’ May said wistfully. ‘And the little lad’s a darling.’
‘Oh, listen to you, you’re just as bad!’ Mum said, and she squeezed my elbow and I knew then that they approved. After all that we had put them through, my family would be happy for me to be with Alexander and Jamie.
We sat on the bench by the canal. The canal was frozen. Ducks were waddling comically on the ice. The toes in my bad leg were frozen too, even though I was wearing two of Neil’s thick walking socks over the bottom of the cast. Alexander and I sat together like a couple in a painting staring out over the water, together but not touching.
‘The police found Genevieve’s laptop,’ said Alexander.
‘Where?’ I asked.
‘In the well. It was sealed in a plastic bag. She must have left it there in case anything went wrong. It had all her emails on it. Everything. She must have had some idea, some premonition.’
I blew my breath away.
‘I knew it was there,’ I said.
Alexander picked up my hand and cradled it on his lap.
‘I’m sorry,’ we said at exactly the same moment, and that was all we needed to say.
EPILOGUE
WE MARRIED IN the summer, less than a year after we met. We had a very quiet register office wedding, just Alexander, Jamie and me with May and Neil as witnesses and my parents sitting next to us. May’s baby daughter Anneliese slept in her buggy in the aisle. I wore an old blue dress I’d borrowed from May, and a new necklace of painted macaroni threaded on cotton that Jamie had made for the occasion.
In the evening, we had a party in the garden of the Blue Flame pub. Matt Bryant and his wife and children drove up from Worcester, together with other friends who had lost touch with Alexander. My Manchester girlfriends were there, all except Rosita. Roseanne, Midge, Betsy and Tom hired a car and drove up together from Burrington Stoke.
It was a lovely party. The grass was very green and the garden was lined with lacy heads of cow parsley. Midges danced in the air, and the cool country dampness was tempered by the candles in lanterns strung in the trees and the music played by a couple of my old friends. I sat on a rickety bench sipping cider while Jamie slept on my knee. Alexander wrapped a cardigan around my shoulders and leaned down to kiss me.
He didn’t say that he loved me.
He didn’t need to.
After that, Alexander shaved off his beard and had his hair cut and I grew mine even longer. We were broke, always. We rented a tiny flat in Bath, which was a good compromise between Manchester and Burrington Stoke. We’d given up any idea of living in Cornwall by then. That had been our pipe dream, our romantic fantasy. Alexander had found work as a stonemason for a company that specialized in the restoration of historical buildings – and there were plenty of those in Bath – and I enrolled on a full-time art-foundation course at the university and worked as a waitress in the evenings. We saved a little money and eventually one of the surveyors who worked with Alexander told him of a little house that was coming on to the market.
We went to see it, Alexander, Jamie and I. It was a pretty house, halfway up one of the hills that overlook the city. It was called Lilyvale. The family who were moving out – two adults and two children – were friendly and happy.
‘Why are you leaving?’ I asked the woman, who was small, fair-haired and very pregnant.
‘We need more room,’ she smiled, stroking her stomach.
We don’t talk about the past. Now we’re settled in our new life, we try not to look back.
Claudia sold the Barn and moved away, with the twins, as soon as she could. The last I heard, she had bought a house in Pembrokeshire, not far from Damian’s place in Tenby. I haven’t seen her, but I do think about her from time to time and I hope she’s all right.
Once a month, Virginia and Philip come to Bath and they take Jamie out for the day. Philip is still going strong. He is made of stern stuff. Jamie’s pony has been sold but occasionally we all go together to some major equestrian event where the Churchills can show their beautiful and bright grandson off to their posh, horsey friends. Everyone is kind to Alexander and me, and they find it hard to hide their emotions when they look at Jamie. On the evenings of those family get-togethers, we eat out for supper in one of Bath’s myriad restaurants. Philip and Alexander take turns to pick up the bill. Other than that, we have no connection with the Churchill family, although I understand Genevieve’s money has been put in trust for Jamie.
My parents treat Jamie as their grandson. He calls May and Neil Auntie and Uncle and refers to Anneliese as his cousin. I think about my baby boy often, but not as often as I used to. It is the living child who demands my attention now. I will never be his mother, but I will do my best, always. Jamie knows.
We have decided not to tell Jamie the truth about Bill. Short of him developing some rare genetic problem – and that seems unlikely, given that his half-sisters are both fit and healthy – there is no reason for him, or anyone else outside the immediate family, to know his real parentage. That part of the story never reached the media, thank God. It’s one more secret, one more thing to keep hidden, but what would be the point of the truth? It would benefit nobody and it could do a great deal of harm. Between us, Alexander and I will make sure Jamie is always safe. We’ll protect him from his past.
I think of Genevieve all the time, every day. I am not a religious person but, wherever I am, if I come across an open church, I go inside and light a candle for Genevieve. I find a quiet place to sit, and I think of her and remember it was she who saved my life, even though she had lost hers.
I haven’t mentioned this to Alexander. As I say, we don’t talk about the past. What’s important is that Genevieve entrusted me with her boy, and I will do the very best I can for him. I will always be grateful to her.
We’re happy now, Alexander and I; quietly, genuinely happy. We are gentle with each other. Sometimes one or the other of us will disappear into their thoughts and we know that this is only a temporary state, that history can only hurt us if we let it. Now we both know the truth and there are no secrets between us – none that matter, anyway – it seems safe to let the past lie.
I am no longer haunted and neither is Alexander.
I look into his face and see its true beauty, and he sees me watching and smiles and he reaches out to take hold of my hand. We fall into one another, as we always have done, and together I know we are better and stronger than we ever were apart.
ACKNOWLEDGEMENTS
This book wouldn’t have happened at all without the hard work and support of my agent Marianne Gunn O’Connor, and I’m also immensely grateful to Pat Lynch and Vicki Satlow. It has been vastly improved by my very talented editor, Cat Cobain. Thanks to the lovely Transworld people who have been involved, especially Madeline Toy, Kate Tolley and Kate
Samano, and Sarah Day. I know how lucky I am to be working with all of you.
I’d like to thank my parents Janet and Michael and brother Steve for their unwavering encouragement, Kevin for being my hero, Chris, Nick and Mark for being perfect sons; Angie, Callum, Carol, Claire, Henrietta, Judith, Kaela, Martin, Melanie, Milly, Niall, Roger, Roseanne, Sandy and Shelley and everyone at the RNA – in particular the Somerset/Wiltshire chapter.
The Secrets Between Us is steeped in Gothic themes drawn from some of my favourite classic books. Daphne du Maurier’s Rebecca and My Cousin Rachel were particularly influential; also Emily Brontë’s Wuthering Heights and Charlotte Brontë’s Jane Eyre. I learned a great deal from Bram Stoker’s incredible ability to describe the countryside and build tension, and Henry James’s use of psychological drama.
Finally, thank you to you for reading it.
About the Author
Louise Douglas was born in Yorkshire but has lived in Somerset for the past twenty years. She has three beautiful sons and a partner who works in construction.
She earned her living through writing for years, firstly as a journalist and more recently copywriting for a variety of clients, but only achieved her lifetime’s ambition to become a fiction author in 2008 when her first novel, The Love of My Life, was published. It was longlisted for the Romantic Novel of the Year award and the Waverton Good Read Award and has been widely translated.
Two years later, Missing You was published and went on to win the Romantic Novelists’ Association People’s Choice award by public vote. It was also shortlisted for the Brit Writers’ Award 2010.
The Secrets Between Us is Louise’s third book. Her inspiration came from the beautiful Somerset countryside, the county’s ancient association with the natural, mythical and spiritual aspects of life, and from some of Louise’s favourite classic novels.
When she’s not writing, Louise is usually reading, walking with the family’s dog, Lil, and spending time with her amazing family and friends.
Also by Louise Douglas
The Love of My Life
Missing You
For more information on Louise Douglas and her books,
see her website at www.louisedouglas.co.uk
TRANSWORLD PUBLISHERS
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First published in Great Britain
in 2011 by Bantam Press
an imprint of Transworld Publishers
Copyright © Louise Douglas 2011
Louise Douglas has asserted her right under the Copyright, Designs and Patents Act 1988 to be identified as the author of this work.
This book is a work of fiction and, except in the case of historical fact, any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, is purely coincidental.
A CIP catalogue record for this book is available from the British Library.
Version 1.0 Epub ISBN 9781409045243
ISBN 9780593067086
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